The sweet sound of his voice struck me!
Ah, that voice has entered my heart!
Edgardo! I surrender to you, oh my Edgardo!
I have escaped from your enemies.
A chill creeps into my breast!
Every fibre trembles!
My foot falters!
Sit down by the fountain with me a while!
Alas, the tremendous phantom arises and separates us!
Let us take refuge here, Edgardo, at the foot of the altar.
It is scattered with roses!

A heavenly harmony, tell me, do you not hear it?
Ah, the marriage hymn is playing!
They are preparing the rite for us! Oh, how happy I am!
Oh joy that is felt but not said!
The incense is burning!
The holy torches are shining, shining around!
Here is the minister!
Give me your right hand!
Oh joyful day!
At last I am yours, at last you are mine,
A god gives you to me.
Let me share
The greatest pleasures with you,
Life for us will be
A smile from merciful heaven.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.

Translation
O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

Fate – monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.

Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the strong man,
everyone weep with me!